


To Reconnect

by machtaholic (cinderella81)



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Crossdressing, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-02 19:15:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21166586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinderella81/pseuds/machtaholic
Summary: A Halloween party at the Physical Kids Cottage gives Eliot and Quentin the perfect chance to reconnect after the events surrounding the Monster.





	To Reconnect

“You sure about this?”

Eliot smiled at Margo’s reflection in the mirror as she stood behind him, scissors in her hand.

“I live to make waves,” he replied with a smile.

“This is going to do more than that,” Margo said.

Eliot smiled a bit wider at Margo in the mirror.

“Oh, I know,” he said, sitting back a bit so Margo could work. He’d cast a number of spells on himself in preparation for the annual Physical Kids Halloween Gala - he always went all out for the Gala and this year was no different.

“A haircut is kinda permanent,” Margo warned.

“You can tweak it later,” Eliot said with a shrug. “And really you won’t be able to tell the difference after I wash it.” 

“Okay,” Margo said, running a comb through Eliot’s magically straightened locks before making a decisive first cut.

Eliot watched in the mirror, keeping his face passive as Margo made more decisive cuts, creating a very specific style. He released a breath when Margo finally set the scissors down and reached for the comb and the hairspray, moving to stand in front of him and finish styling his hair. When she finally stepped back behind him and Eliot saw his reflection, he smiled.

“Perfect,” Eliot said.

“You can actually really pull this off,” Margo said.

“You doubted me?”

“Not really but this is far and beyond the most you’ve done for a costume,” Margo replied. “Trying to impress someone?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Eliot replied as he stood and moved over to the bed to inventory his costume laid out on his bed.

“Not going to do your face?” Margo asked.

“Saving that for last,” Eliot said. “Now shoo, let me work. I’ll see you at the party.”

“Mmmhmm,” Margo hummed. “See you at the party.”

“See you at the party,” Eliot said. Once the door clicked closed behind Margo, Eliot went to work to finish getting ready. 

He stripped down and grabbed the thigh high silk stockings first, pausing for a moment to run a hand up his leg before slipping the stockings on. The spell he’d cast temporarily removed his beard, leg, chest and armpit hair for 12 hours and it seemed to have done a bang up job. Stockings in place, Eliot slipped on the garter belt next, connecting the belt to the stockings before slipping on a pair of dark purple panties. Margo would have said something about the aesthetics of the garter belt on under the underwear, but Eliot didn’t want to have to fuss with anything should he have to pee.

Eliot eyed the dress next; purple and full of beading and fringe, it was the perfect flapper dress and he knew it would fit him just right and give an illusion of curves he really didn’t have. Dress on, Eliot slipped his feet into the silver t-strap heels before moving back over to the vanity to work on his face.

Eliot surveyed the array of makeup he’d borrowed from Margo (with her permission of course) then contemplated his face in the mirror for a few moments before setting to work. After everything that had happened with the Monster and the time he’d spent in the medical wing, he still looked tired, even after all the forced rest he’d been on. So Eliot spent extra time covering the dark circles under his eyes, then went about finishing the rest of his makeup.

Jewelry went on next, then the elbow length purple gloves, then the silver shawl and then Eliot deemed himself ready.

“Okay, Eliot, let’s make some waves and make some amends.”

* * * 

“I’m not sure about this,” Quentin said as he stared down at the costume laid out on the bed in his room.

“I am so sure about this,” Margo said.

Quentin ran a hand through his hair with one hand while the other clutched his towel.

“A gangster,” Quentin said.

“Peaky Blinders is so very hip right now,” Margo said. “And you have the perfect build for this suit. So drop the towel and get dressed.”

Quentin turned to look at Margo. “Okay,” he said slowly.

“Now,” Margo said. “So I can fix your hair.”

“Wanna go wait outside?” Quentin asked.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” Margo replied with a wink.

Quentin frowned at Margo but turned his back to her, dropped the towel and started to get dressed.

“Don’t forget the sock garters,” Margo called.

“Sock garters,” Quentin muttered, staring at the pile of things on the bed. He contemplated each item before slipping it on - socks, sock garters, shirt, pants, suspenders, tie, tie-clip, vest … “How many items of clothing are here?”

“Enough,” Margo said. “Don’t do the coat, jacket, gloves or hat until I do your hair.”

Quentin buttoned up the vest, then turned to face Margo. “So?”

“You look lovely,” Margo said. “Now come sit.”

Quentin rolled his eyes, but dutifully sat in the chair Margo had put in the middle of his room so she could do whatever she’d planned to do with his hair. He flinched as she sprayed his hair with water but relaxed a bit as she combed through his damp locks. When he heard the scissors, though, he almost jumped up.

“Margo, no,” Quentin said.

“Relax,” Margo said, dropping a towel around Quentin’s shoulders. “Just a trim, okay? You have a ton of split ends - we really need to have a sit down about proper hair care, Coldwater.”

“Fine,” Quentin said. “A trim.” He closed his eyes and tried to block out the sound of the scissors as Margo trimmed his hair. Thankfully it didn’t take long and Quentin breathed a sigh of relief when Margo whisked the towel away and ran a comb through Quentin’s hair.

“All done,” Margo said. “See? Painless.” 

Quentin couldn’t help but smile when he felt Margo press a kiss to the top of his head. He stood and reached for the rest of the items. Gloves, jacket, then coat and Quentin was done.

“So, do I pass muster?” Quentin asked Margo.

“Almost,” Margo said, reaching for the flatcap and carefully placing it on Quentin’s head. “Now you’re perfect.”

“Still feels like a lot just for a Halloween party,” Quentin said. “And I’m already warm.”

“Don’t be a baby, you’ll be fine,” Margo said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go get ready.”

Quentin flinched when he felt Margo slap his ass on the way out of his room. Once he was alone, Quentin took a moment to look at himself in the mirror. The bags under his eyes were still prominent - leftover from the fight to help Eliot regain control of his body. Things had been … tenuous since Eliot had come back. Quentin had been keeping his distance, trying to let Eliot acclimate to being back in control of his body again. He almost felt like he was back in middle school, sharing shy glances with Eliot across the Cottage, both Quentin and Eliot apparently too shy to actually take the next step.

Something had to change.

Quentin gave himself a shake, took one more look at himself in the mirror, then ventured out to the party.

* * * 

When Quentin stepped out the side door of the Cottage, he found the greenbelt completely transformed. There was a huge white canopy, a dancefloor, floating lights … floating drinks.

“Not bad, huh?”

Quentin turned to see Margo standing next to him, dressed in a short white toga and three inch gladiator heels laced up her calves.

“And what are you dressed as?” Quentin asked.

“A goddess,” Margo said.

“I know you’re a goddess, but what is your costume supposed to be?” Quentin asked with a grin.

“Cheeky,” Margo said. “I’ll deny I said this but … I missed your cheek, Coldwater. Now grab yourself a drink and have some fun.”

Quentin smiled when he felt Margo press a kiss to his cheek. He watched her grab a floating drink and enter the fray, but took a moment for himself to take everything in, to look around at the people milling around. They all seemed to be so content, so happy … so oblivious.

All of them had seemed to push past what had happened, what they all had done to help save the world.

The few Magicians who had seen more, done more, were left to deal with the memories. The nightmares.

Quentin gave himself a shake and looked out over the crowd once more, searching for a familiar face.

A flash of purple had Quentin approaching the canopy and dancefloor, moving through people to get closer. The crowds seemed to part and Quentin stood at the edge of the dancefloor, entranced by a figure he saw across the way standing alone, their back to Quentin. Quentin took in the heels, the stockings, the beading of the dress, the gloves, the way the shawl was draped just so … the figure turned and Quentin took a moment to admire the way the dark hair curled just so across the cheek …

Quentin gasped softly when his brain registered who the figure was.

Eliot.

The figure across the dancefloor was Eliot. Dressed as a flapper. Quentin hesitated for a moment, then swallowed, grabbed two flutes of champagne and took a path around the dancefloor, headed straight for Eliot.

“Pardon me,” Quentin said softly. “But I noticed you were without a drink and just had to remedy that.”

“Thanks, but no …” Eliot trailed off as he turned and saw Quentin there, offering him a drink. “Thanks.”

Quentin smiled. “I’m Quentin,” he said. It was a crazy idea and Quentin didn’t know if it would work but he had to try. For him. For Eliot. For the two of them.

“You can call me El,” Eliot said softly, accepting the champagne flute from Quentin.

“You seem familiar,” Quentin said. “Do we have any classes together?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Eliot replied with a chuckle. “But I’ve seen you around.”

“Well the campus is small,” Quentin said. “This might be a bit forward of me, but would you like to find a place to sit and get to know each other a bit more?”

“That is a bit forward,” Eliot said. “But I’m game. Lead the way, Quentin.”

Around the dancefloor, someone had conjured a selection of chaise lounges; Quentin found one a little further away from the dancefloor and sat down, watching as Eliot perched demurely on the chaise next to him.

Quentin sipped his champagne and asked El some innocuous questions, things he already knew the answer to but if he was going to play this, he was going to play it all the way through.

He didn’t know how long they sat their, sipping champagne and chatting but it felt so comfortable, so right. When Quentin took a moment to look around, he noticed the lights had been dimmed and most of the people had filtered away, probably paired or tripled off to have private parties.

“Looks like the party is winding down,” Eliot murmured. “Any more questions?”

“Just one,” Quentin whispered. “Favorite fruit?”

Eliot was quiet for a moment. “Peaches and plums,” he said. “I’m partial to peaches and plums.”

Quentin gasped softly, just barely blinking back tears. His hands fumbled for someplace to go, settling on grabbing Eliot’s hands in his.

“El,” Quentin whispered. “El ... “

“I’ve missed you,” Eliot whispered.

Quentin couldn’t speak - instead he leaned forward and claimed Eliot’s lips in a sweet kiss. He pulled back and licked his lips, blinking at the taste of peaches on his lips.

“What -”

“I hoped,” Eliot murmured. “So I charmed the lipstick to taste like peaches.”

“Fuck,” Quentin murmured.

“I was hoping it would lead to that,” Eliot replied with a smile. “And since I know you’re not really an exhibitionist … perhaps we can go back to your room?”

“I think that is a fantastic idea,” Quentin said, climbing off the chaise and offering a hand to Eliot.

“Such a gentleman,” Eliot said, slipping a hand into Quentin’s and letting Quentin help him stand.

Quentin smiled as Eliot tucked himself against Quentin’s side as they walked around the party and headed back to the house. Quentin smiled at the sound of Eliot’s heels clicking on the hardwood floor as they entered the Cottage and made their way up the stairs to Quentin’s room. When they stepped inside, Quentin stalled just inside and stared. Someone had turned down the bed and filled the room with a bunch of candles lit with purple flames.

“Margo,” Quentin said. “We sure she’s not psychic?”

“We might just be that predictable,” Eliot replied softly.

Quentin hummed when he felt Eliot remove his flatcap, leaned into the feel of Eliot’s fingers in his hair.

“‘s nice,” Quentin murmured.

“I miss the long hair,” Eliot said softly. “The way it was … before.”

“Me too,” Quentin said. “I plan on growing it back.”

“Mmmmm, good,” Eliot said.

Quentin bit his lip when he felt Eliot give his hair a sharp tug. “El,” he groaned.

“You are wearing too many clothes,” Eliot muttered. “Way too many clothes.”

“Blame Margo,” Quentin mumbled, stepping away from Eliot and starting to strip.

“You look great, though,” Eliot said as he tossed off his shawl and removed his gloves. “But I want it all off.”

Quentin laughed and nodded, quickly and efficiently getting undressed. He tossed his last piece of clothing to the side, glanced up and groaned. Eliot had stripped out of the dress and underwear and stood in just the garter belt, stockings and heels. Eliot had started to unhook the stockings from the belt, but Quentin rushed over and stopped him.

“Leave them on? Please?” Quentin whispered. “For me?”

“Shoes too?” Eliot asked, cupping Quentin’s cheek.

“Please?” Quentin whispered.

“Kinky,” Eliot said, tone soft and teasing. “For you, Q.”

Together the two of them stumbled over to the bed, Quentin laughing when they tripped and fell onto the mattress, Quentin landing on the bed first with Eliot on top of him. Quentin rested his hands on Eliot’s hips, fingers slipping under the garter belt and snapping it playfully.

“Missed you, El,” Quentin said, running his hands up and down Eliot’s thighs, feeling the slide of silk stockings under his fingers.

“Missed you, Q,” Eliot breathed. “So fucking much.”

Quentin gasped when he felt Eliot’s fingers tweak one of his nipples, arching and feeling the silk from the stockings against his outer thighs.

“Eliot,” Quentin whimpered. “I can’t … it’s been so long … I won’t …”

“No foreplay then,” Eliot said with a smile.

“The whole night’s been foreplay,” Quentin gasped, reaching under his pillow for the bottle of lube and pressing it into Eliot’s hand. “I’m aching, El. Aching … for you.”

“Know just what to say,” Eliot whispered.

Quentin kept his hands on Eliot’s thighs, thumbs rubbing against the silk of Eliot’s stockings as he watched Eliot work. When Eliot opened the bottle of lube, Quentin waited for the feel of fingers inside him, but it didn’t come. When Eliot leaned back a bit, Quentin gasped softly, watching as Eliot began to stretch himself, whimpering at the feel of Eliot’s heels digging a bit into his calves.

“El,” Quentin whispered.

“I’ve been aching, too,” Eliot whispered back. “Want this. Want you.”

Quentin hissed a bit at the feel of lube on his cock and, before he could say anything, gasped as he both felt and watched Eliot lower himself slowly onto Quentin’s cock. Quentin tightened his grip on Eliot’s thighs, whimpering when he felt Eliot give a little thrust.

“El,” Quentin groaned.

“Touch me,” Eliot breathed. “Q … want your hand on me.”

Quentin had to force himself to remove a hand from Eliot’s thigh, wrapping it gently around Eliot’s cock and giving it a quick stroke. The feel of the silk against his thighs, the heels digging into his calves, the feel of Eliot surrounding him, thrusting … it didn’t take much before Quentin came, suddenly stroking Eliot’s cock faster so El could come too.

Eliot came all over Quentin’s stomach with a shout a few moments later, then sat straddling Quentin’s thighs for a few minutes as they both recovered.

Neither one of them felt the need to fill the silence with mindless chatter, and after a couple of minutes Eliot levered himself off Quentin’s cock and conjured a damp cloth for Quentin before sitting next to Quentin and carefully removing his heels, garter belt and stockings.

Quentin cleaned himself off then tossed the cloth onto the floor and rolled onto his side to watch Eliot. He hummed softly as he watched Eliot roll each stocking down and toss them onto the floor. He reached out and ran a hand down Eliot’s leg, blinking when he found it hairless.

“Twelve hour spell,” Eliot murmured. “It’ll be back when we wake up tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Quentin said, watching as Eliot conjured another cloth and began to clean his face. 

When Eliot finished, he tossed the cloth aside and scooted down on the bed, rolling onto his side so he was facing Quentin.

“I got scared,” Eliot whispered. “Before. Right after the mosaic. Because when something good happens, I get scared that I’ll fuck it up, so I run. So I ran. But I don’t want to run anymore. I want this. I want you.”

Quentin smiled. “I want this, too,” he said softly, reaching out and carding a hand through Eliot’s hair. “It’s so straight … and you cut it.”

“Another spell,” Eliot murmured, leaning into Quentin’s touch. “To straighten it. Then Margo cut it. We’ll see what it looks like tomorrow morning.”

Quentin hummed and continued to card a hand through Eliot’s hair, scooting a bit closer. He felt Eliot’s arm around him, hand on his lower back and sighed softly, snuggling in closer. Quentin moved his hand from Eliot’s hair and rested in on Eliot’s hip, thumb rubbing a soothing circle.

“Nightmares?” Quentin asked softly.

“Sometimes,” Eliot whispered. “You?”

“Sometimes,” Quentin replied.

“Maybe,” Eliot murmured, “we can fight them together.”

“I think we can. Together.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you want some visuals ... 
> 
> Eliot's hair looks like [this](https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pxtANHVOaKE/ToHGCLu9dBI/AAAAAAAACQs/6nlSx9RtVC4/s1600/The+Orchid+Bob.jpg)
> 
> Eliot's dress looks like [this](https://m.media-amazon.com/images/I/81X3ju-BWSL._SR500,500_.jpg)
> 
> And Quentin's costume is [this](https://i0.wp.com/whatmyboyfriendwore.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/04/Peaky-Blinders-Style-1920s-Mens-Fashion-2.jpg?resize=750%2C500&ssl=1)


End file.
